


The Trick is to Keep Breathing

by iceprinceofbelair



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries, Pride and Prejudice - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Character Death, Crying, Funeral, Gen, Panic Attacks, eulogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2638970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceprinceofbelair/pseuds/iceprinceofbelair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy is struggling to deal with the aftermath of his parents' deaths. GiGi and Fitz keep him strong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trick is to Keep Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally titled "The Panic Attacks of William Darcy" but that sounded odd to me.

It's not the first time Darcy has been called into his little sister's room in the middle of the night by the sound of her sobbing her heart out. She never asks for him but he knows she needs him there as much as he needs to hold her in his arms and breathe in her scent and remind himself that he isn't quite as alone as he feels. He rarely sleeps these days - no time - but feeling GiGi's heart beating as she falls back into sleep is enough to relax him to the point where he can pretend he's well rested.

It's been five days since it happened and Darcy knows he's on the edge of a breakdown.

Tonight brings no change to the routine and Darcy crawls into GiGi's bed at three o'clock in the morning and pulls her into his chest. He shushes her like he always does and she sniffles and sobs sparodically until there's nothing left anymore but the cracked shell of Georgiana Darcy, orphaned at nine and a half years old.

"William?" she murmurs, the tears having long since subsided. He squeezes her gently, dreading what she might be about to say. If it's a question he can't answer... "What happens now?"

He swallows. He must be silent for longer than he realises because she asks again, red-rimmed eyes gazing at her big brother who, to her, is the fount of all worldly knowledge. He knows everything and he'll be able to make everything alright again. But one look at his poorly-concealed anguish sews the seeds of doubt in her heart.

"What happens to us, William?" She whispers, lower lip trembling.

"I-" he begins but he cuts himself off because he really doesn't know. He hasn't the first clue. He's her legal guardian now but even he knows there's no way in hell he can juggle university and GiGi and Pemberley and _oh God, Pemberley._

He's not ready to be CEO. He's barely eighteen. He can't do it. He doesn't want to do it.

But it's what his father wants and it's all his mother has ever dreamed of and their disappointment is so clear in his mind that he knows he has to do it. He has to think of more than himself. But he's barely an adult. It's too soon.

And there's no way the board would approve him anyway because he's just too young. He has no experience and he may have grown up sock-sliding down the hallways of those offices but he'll never be able to match the merits and achievements of those twice his age. He simply cannot run a digital media company.

"I don't know," he finally says, fighting to keep his voice from breaking.

But he's taken so long to contemplate it that GiGi has already fallen asleep.

~

Fitz calls the next morning when GiGi is still asleep with her arms clamped around her brother's waist and, even though he's been awake all night thinking and worrying and _panicking,_ he doesn't remember her getting herself into that position. Luckily for the Darcys, Fitz has been around long enough to know when to just let himself in with the key inside the false stone outside their front door.

He wanders towards GiGi's room after ascertaining that Darcy is not in his own bed and sticks his head round the door to check if the siblings are still asleep. Darcy offers him a weary look and Fitz shoots back a grimace before prying GiGi away from Darcy without waking her, something nobody but Fitz has ever managed. When Darcy asks him how he does it, Fitz will lay a finger aside his nose and say seriously, "I will never reveal my secrets."

Darcy is folded over the kitchen counter with a mug of tea clasped in his hands before Fitz takes a stab at conversation.

"How you holding up?" He asks, even though it's painfully obvious that Darcy hasn't had a wink of sleep since it happened. He's dishevelled and exhausted and he clearly hasn't showered either. All the same, Darcy shrugs.

"Alright," he lies. Fitz shakes his head.

"You're not sleeping," he notes.

Darcy shakes his head and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing fiercely.

"Eating?"

"Can't. Keep bringing it back up."

He takes a sip of his tea but everything tastes like like iron and he pushes it away, placing his head in his hands to control the wave of nausea which has just washed over him. Fitz claps him on the back gently.

Not a moment later, Darcy sits up abruptly and scans the room desperately for a clock but he can't remember where it is and he can't see the one on the microwave without his glasses which he's left upstairs.

"Woah, man," Fitz tries to calm him but Darcy can barely think.

"What time is it?" He asks desperately, because he's suddenly convinced he and GiGi should be at school.

Fitz looks taken aback. He checks his watch. "10:20," he states calmly and Darcy goes to jump to his feet while Fitz watches helplessly until he sits back down again, overcome with dizziness.

A minute passes before Fitz speaks again.

"Darcy, man, you're exhausted and you're starving," he says and Darcy wants to yell at him for stating the obvious because, if that's what they're doing, he may as well say 'you're an orphan before you can drink and you're completely ill-qualified to run your family's business and you're going to be a terrible parent because you're a useless waste of space'.

And if Fitz doesn't say that then what's the point? What the hell is the point of anything?

He wants to break something.

(He doesn't because Fitz drugs his tea with sleeping pills and makes sure he gets some crackers and cheese down him before he whisks him off to bed.)

~

It's been a week. GiGi went back to school yesterday to test the waters, to see if she'd be okay. She was.

Darcy, on the other hand, is another matter. He has one day left of his leave of absence from uni before they start asking questions and how is he supposed to explain the mess his life has become when he can't even process it himself. Besides, he needs to go back. He needs the distraction. Mainly because he doesn't want to think about the board choosing a new CEO the day after tomorrow.

It won't be him and he doesn't know if he can handle that.

Fitz has been trying to get him to prepare a presentation but he can barely bring himself to move. He's drained, wiped, emotionally exhausted - but there's more to it than that.

A week.

It's only been a week. How can he be expected to rejoice in the idea of taking the job which belonged to his father only seven days before? How can he take on the role and all its responsibility if he's still grieving his predecessor?

Then another thought strikes him and it's equally daunting. The funeral.

It's tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow afternoon seemed a long way away just yesterday but now it's looming over him like the shadow of his father in his mind's eye and he's not ready. He's not ready to see them lower his parents into the ground. That will be that. That will be the moment he breaks. And it'll be in front of people, people he admires and respects. People he wants to admire and repsect him.

It happens so gradually that he barely notices. His hands start shaking and he fiddles nervously with a pen on the countertop, rolling it between his fingers. Then it's the sweating and the thinking and the thinking and the thinking. He can't stop _thinking._ And suddenly his heart is pounding in his chest and his ears and he can't draw breath and it hurts in his stomach and his head and he can't see because everything is swaying and spinning and he's gripping at the table to stop himself from falling and he can't, he can't make it stop.

"Woah," Fitz's voice is distant and Darcy can only presume it's his arms which wind around him, hold him closer. His face is damp with either sweat or tears and the room just won't stop spinning. He squeezes his eyes tight shut.

"Darcy, you there?" Fitz sounds closer this time.

Someone says, "William," but he doesn't recognise the voice.

He can't breathe.

Years must have passed by the time he opens his eyes. Fitz is looking at him with concern etched all over his face. Darcy swallows, still fighting to catch his breath.

"Lost you for a second there," Fitz murmurs, giving him a quick squeeze before he lets go entirely and steps back to reveal someone Darcy really doesn't need to see right now. Fitz's father doesn't actually look much like his own but he has the same kind eyes and the same warm smile and his laugh is exactly the same pitch and modulation as-

Darcy still can't breathe.

"William," Mr Williams says softly. "Where's GiGi? Is she alright?"

What does he mean by that? GiGi's at school. School doesn't finish for another...

Now. School is finished now.

"Oh God," he mutters breathlessly, rushing to stand up but he's held back down again by two strong sets of arms. Fitz wraps him up in another hug and he puts his head in his hands.

Mr Williams squeezes his arm. "Don't worry," he says. "William. William, look at me."

Darcy can't. There's a soft sigh from someone - he doesn't know who - but the warm air ruffles his hair and he still feels sick and dizzy and-

GiGi. He can't be like this when GiGi gets back. Mr Williams is offering to pick her up from school and Darcy is nodding mindlessly but he doesn't remember ever communicating her location and his head is aching.

They're talking over the top of his head now and the room is starting to spin again. He puts his hands over his ears involuntarily and shuts his eyes. It's too loud. Too many voices and questions and too many people. He needs to be alone.

He needs his parents.

It's just him and Fitz when he looks up again to find him gazing at him from across the table, oozing worry.

"Darce?" Fitz's voice is barely above a whisper. "You back with me?"

Darcy blinks uncertainly and nods the affirmative even though his thoughts are still racing and his lungs are still scraping for air where there appears to be none.

He doesn't recall the rest of the evening, but he wakes up on the couch with the taste of vomit in his mouth and several empty beer bottles on the kitchen counter.

~

His suit is itchy and tight. It doesn't feel right to be wearing it all of a sudden. Having spent the past week in the same pair of pyjamas, he can't quite get the hang of the suit again. He doesn't want to be here. There are people spilling into the aisles since the pews are on the verge of collapse and it's so hot and he's convinced he can still smell sick and his fingers are horribly dry against the papers to which he's clinging for dear life. GiGi is sniffling into his side and Fitz is gripping his other arm like he might disappear if he lets go. The way things are going, Darcy thinks he might actually prefer to just slip away into nothing.

The time comes for he and Fitz to make their way to the alter and he gives GiGi's hand a final squeeze before he stands. But she won't let go and it takes him a moment to realise that she's worried about him, that she can see how close he is to an emotional meltdown and that she doesn't want him to go. She doesn't want to lose him to himself. And all of a sudden it feels like he's been terribly selfish letting himself get to such a state when he should be putting GiGi's well-being before his own.

Fitz tugs gently on his arm and halts his train of thought.

Darcy climbs the three, small steps to the altar on trembling legs. Fitz looks reluctant to leave him but Darcy is aware of the endless pairs of eyes scrutinising him, pitying him, and almost pushes Fitz away in shame. He doesn't want to be up here. He hadn't expected to have to do this until he'd had a lifetime to prepare. Things like this only happen in nightmares except they're happening right now and Darcy doesn't have the first clue how to deal with them.

The reading is over. It's his turn but he finds he can't quite move his legs until Fitz puts a hand on his lower back and asks gently if he's alright, reminds him he doesn't have to do this if he doesn't feel he can. Darcy swallows. He looks out to the congregation and his eyes lock onto GiGi's heartbroken expression and that's what finds him his feet. Everything has to be about GiGi now. She's all he really has by way of proper family and, more importantly, he's all she's got.

So, for GiGi, he steps up to the podium and stares at the eulogy he's rewritten six times since this morning. For GiGi, he adjusts the microphone and takes a deep breath. But it's for himself that he folds the paper in half twice and tucks it away into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. It's for himself that he clears his throat and glances up to the back wall and does his best to just let it come from within, like it should; like he wishes these things would.

"There are no words I can conjure to express how I feel at this time," he begins, glancing to GiGi whose expression is unreadable. "My parents- my parents were great believers in the importance of self-knowledge and belief. It was their greatest wish to see their children blossom into adulthood with integrity and hope. It was their greatest amibition to nurture the spark of creativity that lives within us all and Pemberley was simply a means to that end. They saw a world of possibility. The possibility of a brighter future for the next generation. The possibility of making the world a better place. The possibility of hope."

He looks to Fitz who is smiling, practically swelling with pride, and it spurs him on. He swallows the lump in his throat.

"Those of you who know me well will appreciate how difficult this kind of thing is for me. Words have never come easily. But in the spirit of hope, I would like to share with you the final verse of a poem which my mother loved dearly and which will forever - in my eyes, at least - serve as testament to her memory."

There's no stopping the tears by this point. They're welling up in his chest and his eyes and clogging up his throat and his lungs and constricting his heart which is racing and tugging and aching. A voice in his head tells him that this is cheap, using somebody else's words where his own fail him, but he quashes that voice with his own trembling one.

"When the lamp that lighted the traveller at first goes out, he feels a while benighted and looks round in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing, by cloudless starlight, on he treads," and every effort he has made to keep his voice from breaking is lost when the last few lines are accompanied by harsh sobs which have been such a long time coming that he finds himself incapable of holding them back any longer. "And...he thinks no lamp so cheering as the light which Heaven sheds."

He's spent.

Exhausted, he puts his head in his hands and tries so hard to take deep breaths but the air just won't comply and there are people all around trying to console him and he's mortified but he can't find the god damn strength to even breathe never mind care. GiGi has her arms clamped around his waist and then Mr Williams is supporting him with the help of Fitz as he stumbles back to his seat and collapses with GiGi in his lap. She curls into his chest and sobs about how much she loves him and how proud she is. Darcy's chest aches from trying to silence his tears but occasionally his body will jerk with a quiet sob he can't suppress.

Even Aunt Catherine appears close to being _moved_ but her face, for the most part, maintains a stony expression which suggests they will be having many an important chat about his little breakdown later.

The ceremony seems to drag and stretch. GiGi sings a pretty little song which sets Darcy off all over again. And then it's time to take the coffins to the cemetary and he simply cannot summon the energy to follow on behind. GiGi goes. Aunt Catherine goes. Gradually, everyone filters out, laying hands on his shoulders and congratulating him on a beautiful eulogy and apologising for his tragic loss. He filters them out.

Eventually, it's just him. And Fitz. Fitz always stays.

He curls up in Fitz's arms and lets it all loose with a heartwrenching cry of sheer anguish and despair and exhaustion. He sobs and he cries until he can't anymore, all the while pouring his heart out to his best friend. It's clear Fitz doesn't know quite what to do. This is the first time he's ever seen Darcy so blatantly vulnerable and Darcy has to admit that, if he were Fitz, this would be scaring the hell out of him too.

Finally, Fitz whispers tearily, "They'd be so proud of you right now. I know I am."

And that's enough. That's really enough.


End file.
